SMELLS like the moon bouncing its soft, blue, shining light off the bumper of your car as you roll along the highway, the long, dark, asphalt like an endless, unspooling thread, weaving you in and out of the arteries of the land you’re driving through, letting the world outside your vehicle rumble past you in a low, growling, velvet concerto underneath your wheels, because there’s nothing for you besides more open road, more places to see, and that destination, bright as a hearth’s fire, waiting for you on the other side of the dawn if you can just make it through the night and how it FEELS.
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